


and it was all yellow

by aisu10



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: COLDPLAY LYRICS, M/M, Synesthesia, what am I writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisu10/pseuds/aisu10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is interested in Bruce's synesthesia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and it was all yellow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rywaen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rywaen/gifts).



> For 5harky, who is one of my favorite people ever and deserves all the fic in the world! <3 Love you bby. ;u;
> 
> Lyrics are from Coldplay's "Yellow." (obviously)

_i came along_

_i wrote a song for you_

_and all the things you do_

_and it was called yellow_

It just slips out, one day, while they're working. Bruce cuts his hand and tells Tony to stay away from the poison dripping forth as he mutters something about how _purple_ it feels. 

"You can feel color?" Tony asks, surprised. 

Bruce eyes him carefully, wondering if he should just ignore the question and finish bandaging his palm in silence. But Tony seems genuinely curious, so he relents and gives him an answer. 

"Not exactly - it's more like... My feelings _are_ color." 

Something seems to dawn on Tony's face, and he snaps his fingers in realization. "That's called, aaah... _synesthesia_ , right?" 

Bruce looks surprised. "That's right. You know about it?" 

"Yeah. You _have_ it?" 

Bruce nods, finishes sterilizing the cut - it stings in fuschia and pink, tiny pinpricks of color dancing behind his eyes - and applies a bandage to it. Tony watches him, eyes focused on Bruce as if they're trying to pull more information out of him. 

"It's not just feelings that are color," Bruce continues as he returns to his spot at the lab table. "Sounds are, too." 

"Oh yeah? What color is my voice?" Tony asks immediately, a small grin crossing his lips. 

Bruce picks up the sharp-edged prototype they're working on, turning it over delicately in his hands and smiling to himself as he answers - 

"Yellow." 

_i swam across_

_i jumped across for you_

_oh what a thing to do_

_'cause you were all yellow_

Natasha's slick scarlet tongue had drawn him to the Helicarrier like a moth to a flame, and there he stood on the brig in a whirlwind of color. Nothing seemed to make sense until Tony's bright yellow voice had broken through the haze like a ray of sunshine, speaking in a language that Bruce could understand and in a hue so _inviting_ that Bruce could swear he'd never heard anything so beautiful. 

He took to Tony immediately. Tony's voice, much like the man who possessed it, was always changing, moving along the spectrum to help him achieve his goals. When countering Steve's deep blue scolding, Tony spoke in a firm, vivid lemon, refusing to back down no matter what. But when Tony spoke to Bruce, reassured him, shared his heart with him - his voice was a rich and soothing color like warm honey, slipping down Bruce's throat and filling him with visions of finally _belonging_. 

The Hulk must have felt it, felt Tony's calming yellow words pierce through his thick wall of angry, angry green, because he _caught_ him, right out of the sky, and woke him with an emerald roar in thanks. 

It was no wonder that Bruce chose a yellow shirt to wear after the green had faded away. 

_your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones_

_turn into something beautiful_

_do you know? for you I bleed myself dry_

_for you I bleed myself dry_

"I mean, I've heard of it, I've just never met anyone who has it," Tony says with a shrug. 

"It's not exactly the most common disorder in the world," Bruce chuckles, typing some calculations onto the tablet hanging before his eyes. 

"Neither is turning into the Hulk." 

"Touche." 

"But, seriously, when did you find out?" 

Again, Tony's interested, more interested than anyone's ever been. And again, Bruce just can't keep anything from him. Tony's questions have a way of cutting through his defenses as easily as the butter they're colored like. He tells him, though he's never told anyone before. 

"My father used to hurt me, and my mother. Every slap and bruise was purple to me - and every flash of anger, green, like his voice." 

Tony considers this. "Is your voice green, too?" 

"The Other Guy's is. It's... like my father's. Mine's lighter, more of a sea or mint green. Reminiscent of anger, but... under control." 

"And mine's yellow." 

"Definitely yellow." 

"Are any of your emotions yellow, too?" Tony then asks, cocking his head and carelessly tossing aside the screwdriver he'd been using, taking more of an interest in this conversation than in his work. "You said that green is anger, and so was your father's voice. Does my voice... I dunno, remind you of anything?" 

Bruce chuckles to himself, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the table. "Yellow, to me, is... happiness. Good things are yellow. Laughing, smiling... Acceptance." 

Bruce pauses, then, looking Tony straight in the eyes and bleeding his heart into his next statement. 

"Everything you've given me and more." 

Tony doesn't even hesitate, going straight in for a kiss, a hand on either side of Bruce's face. Bruce's vision is instantly invaded by solar flares and canary feathers and shining stars and he kisses back, taking Tony's brightness into himself and swallowing it down to light his way in a darker time. Tony tastes as yellow as he sounds and Bruce imagines his own skin turning gold instead of green under Tony's fingertips. 

"What color was _that_?" Tony asks when he pulls away, cheeks slightly flushed. 

Bruce laughs, and his insides are full of _light_. "It was _all_ yellow." 

_look at the stars_

_look how they shine for you_

_and all the things that you do_


End file.
